Page 20 of Run & Hide


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I can see the scene she paints dancing behind my eyelids, as if we’re back there together. I can picture the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she pants beneath me; that blue flame sparking in her eyes as she glares up at me.

But it’s not fury I see there in the scene anymore. The fire has turned molten. I see hunger. Lust. I see everything I missed.

I groan quietly to myself as my dick grows hard. If this gets much more torturous, blue balls just might be the death of me. I snap the journal shut, rifling through the box until I find the year that I first moved to Avalon. Ready for a trip down memory lane, I tuck the box back into its hiding place and retreat from the suffocating confines of the cupboard.

Shiloh’s bed seems to beckon to me from the floor above. So, I decide to indulge myself, eager to be surrounded by her scent as I dive into her mind and relive those first few tumultuous months.

Hours later,I’mstillhere, the sun long since set. And that’s when I hear the telltale click of Shiloh’s key turning in the front door.

Oh shit.

There’s no chance I’ll be able to slip out of her bedroom while she’s right there at the bottom of the stairs. In a split-second decision, I dive under the bed, resigned to the fact that I’ll have to wait until she takes a shower before I can sneak back out.

I clutch the journal to my chest as I hear her come up the stairs, careful to keep my breathing low and steady. Having her find me hiding beneath her bed isnothow I’d like our next meeting to go. I silently curse myself for being so careless. This is so unlike me, I barely recognize myself in the moment. I’m always ten steps ahead, conducting my business with ruthless precision. Whatever insanity is fueling this obsession…

It’s making mesloppy.

Shiloh’s footsteps pause just inside the bedroom door. I hear the clanking of chains against porcelain as she presumably removes her jewelry and dumps it in one of those silly little dishes she has scattered all over the room. She sighs heavily, the springs in the mattress creaking loudly as she flops down onto the bed.

I’m acutely aware of how close she is. Just a few inches of wood and fabric separate us. I clench my fists, forcing down the fierce urge to crawl out and touch her. This was a mistake. I need to get out of here before I do something truly unforgivable.

But Shiloh doesn’t move.

For a moment, I think she might have drifted off. I strain to hear her breathing, not taking the risk of moving until I’mcertain she’s fallen into some late-afternoon coma. But then a loud buzzing almost startles me out of my skin. From the sound of Shiloh’s gasp, I figure she’s just as shocked.

“Hey, Jem. What’s up?” The mattress shifts as she hoists herself up the bed.

“No, I haven’t heard from him. Haven’t seen him either. Maybe he’s gone.” My lips curl in a satisfied smirk as I imagine her looking for me around town, perhaps glancing over her shoulder every so often in case I show up unexpectedly. I can’t deny the thought amuses me, even if it’s a game I haven’t actually been playing.

“I don’t know, Jem. Honestly, I have no idea. If he’s skipped town, maybe Melanie will just harass him over the phone until he coughs up the funds he promised. I sure as fuck won’t be bullied into chasing him…We’ll just have to find another sponsor… I don’t know, there must be somebody… Come on Jem, canceling isn’t an option. I won’t allow it. Hell, I’ll wash every car in the state if it’ll raise the money we need… We’ll figure it out, okay? Try not to stress. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

Shiloh groans deeply this time, a harsh sound that tells me exactly how frustrated she is. I don’t have to lay eyes on her to know she’s got her lips pressed together in a thin line, her face pinched in a way that makes her look like she’s about to explode. I can’t wait to see how she’ll react when she finds out I never left, and she’s forced to be grateful I still have every intention of bankrolling her little party…

Well when I can bring myself to face her without immediately tearing her clothes off.

As if by some sick joke, my thoughts are dragged back to the present moment by the sound of a soft, breathy moan above me. My spine stiffens. The mattress creaks and shifts again. Another few seconds and there’s no doubt in my mind exactly what is happening.

Shiloh moans again, the sound shooting straight through me like a drug. I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood as I fight against my own hungry groan. My dick is so hard in my pants, I think it might split the seams. Ialmostrelease a pained hiss.

But she’s not stopping any time soon.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Soon enough, the urge is too strong to resist any longer. As Shiloh’s lustful sounds grow louder, I take advantage of the cover to slowly unbuckle my belt and ease down my fly. It’s a feat of pure willpower to stay silent as I begin to stroke myself in time to her rhythmic movements.

I can only imagine what she looks like right now – head thrown back into her pillow, luscious lips parted as she pants, her fingers working frantically between her spread thighs. The picture is almost enough to drive me wild, only the last fraying thread of my control keeping me from giving away my presence.

Shiloh’s breath hitches, the creaking of the mattress springs growing more erratic as she works herself higher. I pump my fist furiously, my eyes rolling back in my head as a steady stream of precum makes my fingers slick. I imagine her tongue again, and almost feel it swirling around my crown before she sucks me deep.

“Oh fuck,” she gasps above me, her breathy voice trembling as she no doubt rushes towards release. It’s only too easy to convince myself that she’s in my fantasy with me, panting a curse as we drive each other towards blissful oblivion.

With a shuddering cry, Shiloh’s hips still. I picture her thighs clamping together as her orgasm rips through her, wave after wave. The sound of her climax is my undoing. I have to shove my fist into my mouth this time to muffle any sound as I spill hot cum all over my hand.

For a while, the only sound in the room is our breathing. I lie there, boneless and dazed, steadfastly ignoring the feeling of pathetic shame that gnaws at the edges of my consciousness.

What the fuck am I doing? Am I seriously losing control of myself?

I’ve never been a man who has to tiptoe around his desires. Never. I reach out and take what I want, unashamed. But this inability to control myself?No.It started out subtle, but now…

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